household.--Mrs Bruce took
Annie by the hand in silence, and led her up two narrow stairs, into a
small room with a skylight. There, by the shine of the far-off stars,
she undressed her. But she forgot the biscuit; and, for the first time
in her life, Annie went supperless to bed.

She lay for a while trying to fancy herself in Brownie's stall among
the grass and clover, and so get rid of the vague fear she felt at
being in a strange place without light, for she found it unpleasant not
to know what was next her in the dark. But the fate of Brownie and of
everything she had loved came back upon her; and the sorrow drove away
the fear, and she cried till she could cry no longer, and then she
slept. It is by means of sorrow, sometimes, that He gives his beloved
sleep.

CHAPTER VIII.

She woke early, rose, and dressed herself. But there was no water for
her to wash with, and she crept down-stairs to look for help in this
her first need. Nobody, however, was awake. She looked long and
wistfully at the house-door, but seeing that she could not open it, she
went back to her room. If she had been at home, she would soon have had
a joyous good-morrow from the burst of fresh wind meeting her as she
lifted the ready latch, to seek the companionship of yet earlier risers
than herself; but now she was as lonely as if she had anticipated the
hour of the resurrection, and was the little only one up of the buried
millions. All that she had left of that home was her box, and she would
have betaken herself to a desolate brooding over its contents; but it
had not been brought up, and neither could she carry it up herself, nor
would she open it in the kitchen where it stood. So she sat down on the
side of her bed, and gazed round the room. It was a cheerless room. At
home she had had chequered curtains to her bed: here there were none of
any kind; and her eyes rested on nothing but bare rafters and boards.
And there were holes in the roof and round the floor, which she did not
like. They were not large, but they were dreadful. For they were black,
nor did she know where they might go to. And she grew very cold.

At length she heard some noise in the house, and in her present mood
any human noise was a sound of deliverance. It grew; was presently
enriched by the admixture of baby-screams, and the sound of the
shop-shutters being taken down; and at last footsteps approached her
door. Mrs Bruce entered, and finding her sittin